Читать книгу The Love List - Eve Devon - Страница 8

Ethan was at the bottom of the stairs, holding the Moorfield bag out to her. ‘This should help you out with the separation anxiety.’

Nora eyed the bag as it swung tantalisingly back and forth from his forefinger.

‘Eleanor asked me to pick out something that I thought represented you best,’ he told her. ‘I think she was rather expecting to get a handle on you by the shoes you wore.’

Nora’s eyes narrowed speculatively.

‘She was a little thrown when she got me instead of you,’ Ethan continued. ‘But I assured her I was up to the challenge.’

Wait, he had picked out shoes for her? Was he kidding? She stared at him. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. For what seemed like the hundredth time that morning she could feel herself getting all heated, flustered and distracted. That enticingly sexy shoe bag had been sitting there on the back seat of his car the entire drive back. Had he been thinking of her wearing what he’d chosen every time that slow devilish smile had come out to play? She snatched the bag and clutched it to her chest.

‘Don’t you want to open it up and check what I chose for you?’ Ethan asked with a look that said he knew damn well she was practically salivating to open it.

‘I’m super busy,’ she muttered inanely, needing her will to hold out just a little longer because he looked way too sure of himself and she was feeling…so much less sure and quite possibly a little punch-drunk on him.

‘Uh-huh, well I think you’re going to take the lift instead of the stairs and you’re going to be looking in that bag before you’re in your office.’

Nora, clasped the bag tighter to her, gave him her haughtiest look and then turned on shaky legs to walk into the KPC offices.

Don’t you dare look back, Leonora King. Don’t you dare.

It wasn’t until much later that afternoon that she realised she had left her own carrier bag, containing the remnants of her shoe, on the front seat of her car. How could she have done that? Had she subconsciously wanted to leave part of her in his car so that he would continue to think about her? Wasn’t the fact that he’d picked out shoes for her enough?

She rose abruptly and went over to where she had mutinously stashed the Moorfield bag earlier. Glancing around, she decided to store it behind her door, where it couldn’t continue cluttering up the place. She would not look inside until she’d put in a good afternoon’s work. Better yet, she wouldn’t look until she was back in the safety of her own apartment, where she could have whatever reaction she wanted to have in private.

Her thoughts inevitably returned to the shoe she’d left in Ethan’s car and she sighed, quite disgusted with herself. She was now seriously worried that in the space of one day she had turned into some sort of sad Cinderella cliché.

The phone on her desk rang and she pounced on it, glad of the interruption. ‘Yes?’

‘I have Eleanor Moorfield on the line for you,’ Fern said with a tiny telltale trill of excitement in her voice.

‘Thanks, Fern. Pop her through.’ The hand that had only that morning been attached to her shoe pressed on her stomach to try and still the rampaging butterflies. ‘Eleanor? Lovely to hear from you. I was just going through the information you left with Ethan.’ At least she would have been if she hadn’t been thinking about Ethan.

‘Wonderful. It was a pleasure to meet Ethan.’

What did that mean? ‘He did a good job, then?’

‘Oh, he did a great job, really made me feel like he understood my needs,’ Eleanor confirmed in a voice that almost sounded purring.

Nora bristled. She just bet he did.

‘He’s a great asset to have. It was astute of you to bring him on board.’

Nora’s mouth felt dry. Perhaps now would be a good time to apologise for not being at the meeting in person. Explain to her that, technically, Ethan didn’t work for KPC. ‘I’m so pleased the meeting sounds as if it was constructive, but I feel I must apologise for not being there myself—’

‘No need to worry. Ethan explained everything.’

‘He did?’ Nora didn’t think it was possible for her heart to beat any faster. What, exactly, had Ethan said?

‘Mmn—don’t worry about it. I tend to go by my gut instinct and after what I saw today I’m happy to start my lawyers looking at contracts. Think you can get one to me by the end of the week?’

Nora’s hand clenched against her stomach. She had thought letting Ethan help her today had been about family, but maybe her gut instinct had finally kicked back in. ‘No problem at all. You want me to throw in a transition package for releasing the property you already own in Italy, or do you have someone handling that for you already?’

There was a smile in Eleanor’s voice as she said, ‘You’re very good at this. Go on then, I’ll take a look.’

She was good at this, wasn’t she? Nora grinned like a Cheshire cat, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. ‘I’ll have one of my corporate solution professionals phone you to discuss your requirements.’

‘Okay. I really want to push forward with this. I’m happy to listen as long as you don’t start wanting to move my entire company into some cold City office tower. I assume you’re open to discussion about the finer points?’

‘Of course. Absolutely.’

‘And if I want to I can deal with you directly? I may not like being handed over to a posse of staff as soon as I sign on the dotted line.’

‘Well, I usually assign a personal account manager, but of course I’ll make myself available if you feel something isn’t being handled appropriately.’

Nora’s mind whirled. Ethan hadn’t simply given a good presentation; he’d saved the day and clinched the deal. It seemed an official upgrade to Mr Knight in Shining Armour was in order. She wanted to whoop for joy when she thought about being able to announce to the board who she’d snagged as their latest client. And if some of the property in Italy was worth hanging on to, their property portfolio would get a healthy bump, too. Barely managing to cling to any semblance of professionalism, she heard Eleanor speak again.

‘I’m having a little party next week, a celebration for being back in London. You should come. Bring Ethan, too.’

‘I’d love to. Um, I can’t vouch for Ethan. He’s very busy,’ she excused.

‘Well I’d love for him to be there, there are a lot of people I’d like to introduce you both to. It won’t feel like a proper celebration without him. I’ll send invitations out to you.’

Nora didn’t have to work very hard to read between the lines: Ethan was expected there. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she answered in her best non-committed tone. ‘And thanks again, you won’t regret having KPC handle all your property needs.’

Nora replaced the handset and pressed her hands to her lips. The grin started somewhere deep inside her chest and worked its way quickly up to her lips. Could it be true? Was it possible that a day that had started so abysmally could have turned around so fantastically?

She spun in her chair.

She’d done it. She’d actually done it.

Or rather, Ethan had done it.

Feeling dizzy, she stopped spinning and rose to pick up her bag as an overwhelming need to buy Ethan a special thank you present filled her.

Opening the office door she saw Fern tapping away on her keyboard. ‘Why don’t you switch everything off and finish early?’

Fern looked up at her with a frown. ‘It’s 5:55pm.’

‘And that’s early by your standards. Go on. Go home and phone the boyfriend. Maybe cook some pasta, open a bottle of wine…’

Fern smiled. ‘Well if my boss is ordering me, who am I to disagree? I take it the phone call went well?’

‘Ethan certainly seems to have charmed Eleanor Moorfield, so keep your fingers crossed.’

‘That’s wonderful.’ She took in the handbag Nora was holding. ‘Where are you off to, then?’

‘Quick shopping trip and then back here for some more work.’

‘Uh-huh. Okay. Or…you could go another way, and, say, stop by a certain hotel, where a certain hot guy might be staying—’

Nora’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

‘—to, you know,’ Fern continued, cautiously, when she deciphered the warning look, ‘discuss his brother.’

‘Good night, Fern,’ Nora said, mock sternly. ‘I do not expect you to be here when I get back.’

‘Yes, boss. Um, you might need your coat?’

Nora rolled her eyes, thinking that her head was all over the place. Popping back into her office, she dragged her coat off the coat-stand and was about to turn around and head straight back out the door when she spotted the Moorfield bag. An image of her standing in front of a hotel room with a bottle of champagne, wearing only her coat and whatever was in that bag sizzled and then her eyes crossed. Yes—because turning up at the door of a man you had only met that morning with nothing but a bottle of champagne, a coat and a pair of shoes, was such a subtle message, wasn’t it? She could only imagine her sister’s face when she had to explain quite how well Ethan and she were acquainted. Wracking her brain she tried to remember if Sephy had ever mentioned Ethan when she’d been seeing Ryan. Not that during those years Sephy and her had been sisters who’d confided everything. Mostly Nora had used university as an escape from dealing with the fallout of Jared leaving and Sephy, well, she’d kind of used Ryan as her escape. After graduating Nora had spent all her energy immersing herself in KPC, working hard to ensure no one could ever accuse her fast-track through the business as not being fully earned. Then things with Sephy and Ryan had fallen apart when she’d got pregnant with Daisy and Nora had launched straight into over-protective mode.

She wondered what Ethan and Ryan’s relationship was like. It must be solid if he had flown all the way from Italy, but surely Ryan was all right if Ethan could take the time to help her out first before discussing it?

Bundling into her coat, Nora bid Fern goodnight again and made her way down the stairs and out into the cold evening air to hail a taxi. Once she was in the vicinity of the large department stores that stayed open late, she got out and wandered over to the first huge display window she came to.

Sometimes she couldn’t imagine ever working anywhere but in the centre of London. Amongst the buzz and the hustle and the bustle.

Although, lately, whenever she made it back to her fabulous apartment with its views over the Thames, she felt drained from being so switched on all the time, as if she had only two modes: full-on or empty. At least full-on mode didn’t give her time to think or feel. And if the emptiness started to overwhelm, she always had the family home to visit.

She stared, unseeing, at the goodies on the other side of the plate-glass window. Surely her mother had been joking about selling the forty-acre family estate in Heathstead, twenty miles outside London? Nora knew it had to be hard—understood that despite the fact that the hospital bed and nursing equipment was now gone, the memory of Jeremy King’s last months were frozen very much at the forefront of her mother’s thoughts. But the house stood for so much more. It had been in the family for generations. Where her father had lived for KPC, her mother had breathed life back into the estate and even now Sephy and Daisy lived in the specially built three-bedroom apartment built over the vast garages. Where would they go if her mother decided to sell? Where would her mother go? Was she really ready to leave the place she had spent years loving and tending so that it thrived as a home. What if Jared decided that one day he and Amanda wanted to come back to the UK? Surely as the eldest of the Kings, the house reverted to him? The will-reading had probably gone through this, but at the time she hadn’t really paid attention. The only specifics she’d registered were that KPC wasn’t affected and that Jared, Sephy and she had each received a letter from their father.

She shivered and walked to the next department store, determined to move away from thoughts that tugged at the veil of numbness she had got so good at wearing since her father’s death.

Work. Work was what would see her through. Work was the only fitting way to honour her father and feel his loss less.

Sephy and Jared had already opened their letters.

She wasn’t ready yet.

Not that she had to ever open the letter, she counseled herself as the curtain of grief threatened to descend.

All the time she kept the letter sealed, his silence wasn’t final.

Nora exhaled to try and loosen the tension. Hopefully while her mother was in New York helping with Jared and Amanda’s wedding plans she’d forget all about the idea of selling.

As her breath formed a foggy circle in the window of the store in front of her, she lifted her hand and, with her sleeve, brushed the condensation clear. She didn’t have time to think about something that might not even happen. All she had time for lately was to deal with what was immediately in front of her while she kept all her work plates spinning in the air and right now, what was in front of her was what to send the knight-errant? Suddenly she spotted a square glass vase and, smiling, she realised she knew exactly what to fill it with. Back at the office, she unpacked the half-dozen silk ties and arranged them in the glass vase. Tying a ribbon around the vase, she added a gift tag and wrote: ‘Thank you for all your help today. These are more practical than flowers and will last longer. Nora King.’ She put the unusual arrangement into a presentation box and phoned a courier to have it delivered.

The next morning Nora was at her desk struggling with her concentration levels when her mobile phone rang. Answering it, she took a fortifying sip of her vanilla latte, ‘Mmmn,’ it was good.

‘Interrupting something?’ said the relaxed, earthy baritone into her ear.

Nora smiled to herself as her stomach, recognizing Ethan’s voice, performed a perfect scoring six in the vault.

‘Who is this?’ she teased.

‘You always send gifts to men you don’t know?’

Ha. She wondered what he would have to say if he had even an inkling that she’d been toying with turning up at his hotel with a bottle of champagne, a pair of shoes and a very different kind of gift in mind.

‘Oh.’ She took another sip of coffee. ‘It’s you.’

‘So, thanks for the “flowers”.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Leaving her desk, she wandered over to the full-length mirror on the back of her bathroom door to check her appearance. As she saw the flush on her cheekbones she asked herself what the hell she was doing. She was preening and he couldn’t even see her.

‘In point of fact they’re a bit of a distraction,’ Ethan murmured as if a bit disconcerted her gift had such power over him.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Although, if she was being perfectly honest, didn’t she love the idea of him being as distracted by her as she was by him? Don’t tell me a simple vase of ties is preventing you from having a good night’s sleep?’

‘Little bit, yeah. How about you? Having trouble getting your work done?’

She looked at herself in the mirror. The blush was still there, and now that she peered closer, she could tell her eyes had just a touch more sparkle. How honest should she be? It’s not as if he could see she was primping, or that she needed extra coffee to get her mind off him and onto her work.

Self-preservation kicked in. ‘To be honest I’m kind of swamped with the Moorfield account.’

‘Yes, but are you having trouble getting any work done?’

Damn the man.

‘Little bit, yeah,’ she responded in kind.

‘How about coming out to play, for a while?’

‘Absolutely not,’ she answered quickly. ‘I have far too much to do.’ It was for the best. She’d already issued herself with a written warning containing an embargo on Ethan Love fantasies, which were, she had told herself in her strictest most super-stern voice, all the things inappropriate.

‘Shame. So what did you think of the goodie-bag contents?’

No way. Her gaze flew to her feet in the mirror. ‘I haven’t got around to looking yet.’

‘Liar.’ His soft chuckle had her flushing scarlet. His voice dropped an octave lower, ‘So what did you think? Did I get you right?’

‘I have to go now. I’m incredibly busy. Goodbye.’ She ended the call on the sound of more deep laughter.

Had he got her right? Had he ever. If she’d had to guess, she’d have said that Ethan Love wasn’t a man drawn to the obvious, so she wasn’t surprised he’d avoided black. Instead he’d chosen the most sinfully gorgeous deep wine-coloured patent peep-toe stiletto sling-backs she’d ever laid eyes on. They fitted her feet as though they’d been specially made for her and in them she felt, confident, capable, utterly in control…and the tiniest bit wicked.

Wearing them so wasn’t helping her not to think about him. Did he know that? He’d laughed as if he knew that.

Her phone beeped to signal an incoming text: I’m staying at The Grand. Meet me in the bar for drinks at 8pm. Wear the shoes.

Nora was tempted to tell him she’d wear whatever she damn well wanted to wear, if she was so inclined to meet him, that was.

Her phone beeped again and she looked down at the new text: Little Joke. The shoes are optional. But I do need to discuss Ryan with you.

Oh. Of course he did. Why did she keep forgetting that? She needed not to do that again. Ethan had something he needed to run past her about Ryan and she needed to be alert for that in order to look out for Sephy. Piqued at her ability to keep turning their interaction into something more she texted back: It’ll have to be 9pm. There. That was less like “date” time and more like simply meeting-up time.

At seven minutes past nine that evening Nora walked into the hotel’s bar, wearing the same designer business suit she’d put on after her gym session at 6a.m. that morning. It had been hard enough concentrating on exercising knowing Ethan owned the private leisure club in the basement of her building, but she wasn’t changing for Ethan Love. This wasn’t a date.

Okay, so she’d kept on the shoes he’d picked out for her, but he could read into that whatever he wanted. She knew she was wearing them because they were beautiful and comfortable. That was absolutely the only reason.

Probably.

She spotted him immediately. He was seated at the gleaming ebony bar, watching the TV screen and either oblivious to the number of women casting their eyes over him, or so used to it, he no longer noticed when he was being checked out. Her gaze flickered to the screen and she saw that he was watching a news report on the earthquake in northern Italy. She slowed her pace so that she could study him while he watched the news report. To anyone paying loose attention he seemed utterly relaxed and only vaguely interested. But, to Nora, those magnificent shoulders of his got a little tighter and sat a little higher the longer he watched.

Suddenly he turned, his gaze zeroing straight in on her and she could see nothing of the news report behind his blue eyes, only a sort of lazy warmth with a streak of sexy intensity that set off a seductive sense of anticipation in her and pulled her the rest of the way across the room to him.

He rose from his bar stool when she drew up alongside him. His head tipped in greeting and when his gaze dropped to her feet and she registered the appreciative look on his face, there was an absurd little loosening within her.

‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked, his eyes taking their time to travel back up to her face.

‘Jack Daniel’s and coke.’

He repeated her order to the bartender and swung his attention back to her. ‘Tough day at the office?’ he asked with empathy as he ran his gaze back over her in assessment.

‘Isn’t every day?’ she answered with feeling and definitely without thinking. Guilt coursed through her, leaving a tremor in its wake. What was it her father used to say? If you didn’t have at least one sweaty-palm feeling a week, then you weren’t pushing yourself hard enough. She seemed to have upped the ratio to once a day. He’d have been proud. She frowned at the strange unfurling in her stomach because she loved the work. Of course she did.

To combat thinking about KPC and her father and centre her thoughts back on why she was here meeting with Ethan, she picked up the tumbler the bartender had set down in front of her and brought the short black straw to her lips.

She watched Ethan watching her and couldn’t be certain whether it was the hit of alcohol responsible for spreading fire through her or the effect caused when his blue eyes hooded. Releasing the straw she swallowed dry air.

With a subtle clearing of her throat she fought to get a grip before she made a complete fool of herself and coughed and spluttered her way through the contents of her glass. Breaking eye contact would probably help. She brought the straw to her lips and deliberately looked around the room as she took a second careful sip.

Ethan picked up his own glass and steered them towards a small table for two in the furthest corner of the room. Once again, Nora tried to remember that this was not a date. This was a meeting to discuss his brother.

A meeting that definitely didn’t warrant searching Ethan’s eyes for bonus content while she returned his looks with what she was a little worried could be construed as a hint of puppy-dog adoration.

Ethan pulled out her chair and opened up with, ‘So how’s Sephy these days?’

‘How’s Ryan?’ she countered, not about to give him information on her sister before she knew why he needed her help. She sat down, determined to ignore the heat of his hand as it brushed against her back.

Ethan smiled and lowered his powerful frame into the chair opposite and then took his time lifting his glass before pausing to watch her over the rim. ‘Everything’s fast with you isn’t it?’ he said, enjoying the blush that bloomed on her cheeks. ‘It’s a Friday night. No reason we can’t unwind a little. Do the “How was your day” thing, first.’

He watched her lips purse with impatience at being made to march to another’s schedule, but he liked the fact that she wasn’t able to remain impassive. She’d been sneaking into his thoughts all day and he’d found himself wanting to check on her. See if he could catch the ball of pain he’d seen bouncing at the outer recesses of her eyes and throw it out of sight for her.

‘Fine,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders with a graceful nonchalance. ‘My day was busy. How was yours?’

‘Similar.’ In between putting things in place for his brother, he’d spent hours on the phone trying to find out how things were in Italy. The news showed that there had been another aftershock and more buildings had collapsed. He told himself Pietro was safe and had been reunited with his family. Opting to focus on who he was with and what he needed to say, he began, ‘Given your family’s recent bereavement I wanted to be able to gauge how Sephy was before I gave her the news about Ryan.’

‘Oh. Well. Sephy’s doing fine. She handles everything life throws at her.’

‘Good to know. Still,’ Ethan watched Nora closely, ‘grief visits people differently. I was sorry to hear about your father.’

She went utterly still, as if she hadn’t expected the common courtesy from him and he told himself he didn’t care what she thought about him.

‘Thank you,’ she eventually whispered, her smile determined as she tucked her hair behind her ear and sat up straighter. ‘Let’s get back to why we’re here, shall we? What’s going on with Ryan?’

Fixing his gaze on her, he breathed in, and said matter-of-factly, ‘Ryan is in rehab.’

Nora blinked. Twice. Oh, she had impeccable manners, but between the blinks Ethan caught something else that looked a lot as though her low opinion had simply been confirmed.

‘I…see,’ she said quietly.

Ethan could see a question forming at the back of her mind. She was busy asking herself if this was a brother-like-brother situation; it wasn’t the first time he’d been compared to Ryan – people always felt the need to lump family together – no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.

Still.

Disappointment weighed heavy in his gut before he asked himself why she should be different to anyone else. ‘No you don’t, but that’s okay,’ he returned lightly. What was the point in reacting?

‘Am I allowed to ask what he’s in rehab for?’

He hesitated because he wasn’t yet used to saying it. ‘He’s exhausted, very low and…has a gambling addiction.’

Again there was the blinking, before she said, ‘Did you know he had a problem? I mean, did you put him in rehab or did he put himself there?’

‘He mostly put himself there. I merely helped with the finer details. And, yes, I guess I suspected he had some issues, although I didn’t know about the gambling. More about women and generally living beyond his means—which, let’s say, weren’t inconsiderable.’ Especially if you counted the funds Ethan had unwittingly supplied, thinking he was simply short of cash-flow. When he thought about how he’d given Ryan money no questions asked he was disgusted with himself. Talk about carbon-copy behaviour of how his parents dealt with every problem their sons ever brought to them as children.

He lifted his glass and took a sip. At least Ryan was answering his questions and giving him the opportunity to help him now.

Nora frowned. ‘Not inconsiderable,’ she mumbled his words back at him. ‘Is he in rehab because he reached that lowest point—has he lost everything?’

Ethan inclined his head. ‘Pretty much, yeah.’

Nora whistled softly. ‘That explains that, then.’

‘Explains what?’

‘Sephy hasn’t received any child support for Daisy for months.’

Ethan took the family shame deep into his bones. It was one thing for Ryan to ruin his own life, but his daughter’s? He knew Ryan had never been in Daisy’s life and, given how honest his brother had been with him about how he’d been living, Ethan was actually pleased about that. But to not even pay support? ‘I didn’t know that. I’ll take care of it immediately.’

‘Don’t be silly. Sephy won’t accept any money from me or my brother, so I’m pretty sure she won’t take any from you.’

‘But the money isn’t for her. It’s for Daisy.’

‘Do you think I haven’t pointed that out to her? Neither Daisy nor Sephy go without. But Sephy is very proud. From the moment Ryan ran, she set about coping on her own. She insists she isn’t bothered that Ryan hasn’t paid anything towards Daisy. Of course it might be that she believes that Ryan made his choice. He was either in, or he was out, and if he was out, then it was less messy to make it all out.’

Ethan considered her words carefully. If Sephy didn’t want anything to do with Ryan how was she going to react to his plan? ‘Would she stop Ryan from seeing Daisy?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely not. Like I said, it was always more that Ryan was never particularly interested in seeing Daisy, and Sephy has always believed you can’t force people to love their children,’ she paused and he could see those little cogs of hers whirring and turning. ‘But, surely he doesn’t want Daisy to visit as part of his recovery programme? I have to tell you now that there’s no way I’m going to help you persuade Sephy to allow that. Daisy is way too young to be introduced to her father for the first time in a rehab facility.’

‘Relax. That’s not why I wanted to see you,’ he paused and then decided he might as well lay everything on the table. ‘Ryan is going to need somewhere to stay when he’s completed his programme.’

Nora gaped. ‘You can’t be serious.’

He had to hand it to her. She caught on quick.

‘I’m very serious. I don’t want him living back where he’s been, there’s too much temptation around, too many old friends willing to suck him back into that lifestyle. What I would like is to set him up with a house and a job in Heathstead. I know your sister still lives there. Ryan wants to change. He’s doing all that he can do to change. I figure, give him an environment where the possibility of making a fresh start somewhere familiar is more tempting than the old life he’s working so hard to distance himself from, won’t hurt.’

She leant back in her chair for a second, an assessing look on her face. ‘Have you actually run this past Ryan? Or is he simply another hop on the “Ethan Love Rescue Tour”?’

His fingers tightened against his glass. ‘You think I like playing the hero?’

‘Oh, I’m pretty sure I know you do.’

He took a couple of moments to ensure his breathing evened out. ‘Whatever. This is about my brother. He asked for my help. There was no way I wasn’t going to step up and do everything I could to make it possible for him to lead the life he wants to, not the one he’s been addicted to. He and I have had some pretty tough conversations lately and I know he doesn’t want his addiction to rule his life any longer.’